


Statements From the Accused

by Dr_Roslin



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Battlestar Galactica - All Media Types
Genre: Arrow of Apollo, Canon Compliant, Caprica - Freeform, Dying Leader, Kobol, No Pregnancy, Safe if Triggered by Pregnancy, brig - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23166178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Roslin/pseuds/Dr_Roslin
Summary: What happens to Adama and Roslin's relationship in the wake of Kara's decision to return to Caprica for the Arrow? Nothing good.
Relationships: William Adama & Laura Roslin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Statements from the Accused

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from LiveJournal, Original Notes:
> 
> Of the entirety of Roslin-Adama lore, the scene at the end of season one is one of my favorites. You know the one. I think it is there, along with the Dance, which awoke in me a sense of the possibilities. So here we are, from both POVs.
> 
> Standard Disclaimers apply - although my imagination is my own, the BSG belongs to RDM et al.
> 
> As for spoilers, well, if you haven't finished Season One, you shouldn't be reading this!

He made sure to be there to greet her, personally.

Ensured he was there, waiting, when she was escorted in. Took care to face her, every step of the way. To do so, he forced down the rage that was like icy fire, forced it down, deep into his gut. Did so and kept his face still by sheer force of will.

He couldn’t remember ever being this angry. Not even at the Fall, hearing the reports of death and destruction over the wireless. Not even when it was clear that he would be helpless to avenge them, let alone rescue them from their living hell. Not even then had he struggled to breathe, not even then did he have to force down the raging, burning anger rolling through his gut. Not even then did he remember being this angry. He wasn’t sure he’d _ever_ been this angry.

_Maybe when he’d thought he’d lost Lee…_

_Maybe when he’d first heard about Zak..._

No! He had to focus. Focus on the present. Had to use the rage to bury the pain of her betrayal. He couldn’t believe she’d struck against him this way. To turn his only remaining son against him. To steal his daughter. All in the name of some stupid, mythological shit about an arrow and a tomb and a non-existent route to a stupid dream called Earth.  
He’d thought they’d grown closer than that, thought they had come to trust each other. Thought that maybe they were building something, together… He frowned. He’d thought that at least she’d decided to trust _him_.

After all that nonsense with Ellen Tigh and Leoben and Baltar’s frakking Cylon Detection machine…

He’d thought they were working on finding their way.

For her to betray him like this… to go behind his back, to suborn his family, to risk everything they’d built, to risk the lives of everyone who depended on them, to send Starbuck off on some stupid ass suicidal quest for a frakking relic… The hells had she been thinking?

If there was ever a person capable of cold, logical thinking, it was Laura Roslin. It was one thing he’d always admired about her, one thing even he’d wished he could emulate, even when they’d hardly known each other, even when around her he’d still felt like a tour guide aboard his own ship.

He’d always felt more comfortable following his gut, always found it hard to bury his emotions, to be the stoic Commander, not the hot-headed Viper pilot. It was one of the hardest things he’d had to master when he’d transitioned into Command, the need to fight the urge to leap without looking. He’d had to fight those instincts, learn to look at the whole board, learn to control the battle from the C.I.C. rather than from the comfort of his cockpit.

Laura had that ability in spades. The ability to remove herself from the immediacy, to be objective, to assess what needed to be done, to prioritize conflicting demands. He’d admired that about her, even as he’d sometimes wondered, if only to himself, as to whether she was even capable of human emotions. Or if she did indeed have ice in her veins.

And now this. The rage bubbled up in him again. Roslin and frakking Kobol. Who did she think she was?

What. The. Frak. Had. She. Been. Thinking?  
  



	2. Statements from the Accused - Roslin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fall-out from Kara's departure at the end of season one, this time from Roslin's perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imported from LiveJournal, Original Notes: 
> 
> So, of course, Roslin should be here too.
> 
> Same as before. Standard Disclaimers apply - although my imagination is my own, BSG belongs to RDM et al.
> 
> As for spoilers, well, if you haven't finished Season One, you shouldn't be reading this!

She made sure she never looked down.

Never failed to make constant eye contact with him as she followed her marine ‘escorts’ into the room. The entire procession through the _Galactica_ , through the ship she had begun to see as a second home, as a refuge, had felt like the running of the gauntlet.

Or the procession of the damned.

She smiled wryly, careful to keep it inside. Maybe that's what it was, at that. Of all those lost, was she, the fabled Dying Leader, not chief among them? Was she not fated to suffer and morn, for no other purpose than to see her people delivered to the promised land?  
  
Again she smiled internally. Who would have thought she would have come to believe in the gods and prophecies, she who had always seen religion as mythology at best and at worst a political tool, a panacea for the weak?

She understood why Adama had found her sudden focus on the scriptures so unsettling, understood why he had looked at her with such disbelief, when he’d looked at her at all, during their aborted discussion of her visions. She understood why he had failed even to consider using the captured Raider to make a run for the Arrow. Putting herself in his shoes, she knew she would have felt the same.

Still, no matter how often she tried to convince herself that she would have acted the same, the excuses fell flat. Maybe that was why she hadn’t tried very hard to convince him. Gods knows she was weak, but she couldn’t stand the look of disdain in his eyes. She’d forced herself to broach the subject, she’d had to try. Still, she’d known immediately it was a lost cause.

Though she tried to tell herself he had every right to doubt her, it hurt all the more that he did.

She’d done what she had to do. Regret was a luxury she didn’t have, hadn’t since the Fall. Hadn't really, since before then, since the day not so long ago when the doctor had sat her in his echoing Caprican office and told her how she was going to die. Ironic, really, she'd been sure from the pity on his face that in that moment he could never of have conceived of a future where she would outlive him.

Gods. She couldn’t remember his name.

Frak. She needed to focus on those she had left. All of those she had left, Bill included. She had limited options, as they all did. The peoples of the Colonies of Kobol had been pushed to the edge, by the Cylons and the Fates, and she was standing on that edge along with them. She’d taken steps she could never have dreamt, done things she would never have imagined.

She’d thrown men out of airlocks and betrayed the friend who was quickly becoming her other half.

She’d do it again.

So yes, she wished she could have done things differently, wished she hadn’t had to sacrifice his friendship in the name of her people, of the prophecies meant to ensure their future. It had been her choice, always her choice, but no matter how many times she considered it, she always knew she’d make the same one.

So. Yes. She’d do it again.

She hadn’t foreseen the cost it would entail, to him. She hadn’t intended to take his son s well as his surrogate daughter. Still, the end result was the same. The gods had promised survival for her people, all of them, including him.

And the gods always claimed their price.

Turning to face him as the heavy door made of iron clanged closed between them, she took care to meet his eyes. Focused on keeping them level and calm. Made sure he understood her willingness to pay the price she’d known he would demand. Ensured he understood that she had known what it would cost her when she gone against him.

Made it clear to him that she had walked in of her own free will. With her eyes wide open.


	3. Statements from the Accused - Adama Revisited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When I recently re-watched the first season, I found myself wondering, what exactly Adama was thinking every time he looked at his erstwhile president with that quizzical look in his eye.
> 
> I had no problem guessing what he was thinking when he looked at her during their last scene of the season.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imported from LiveJournal, Original Notes:
> 
> This was a small one, so I'm just going to finish it off. When I recently re-watched the first season, I found myself wondering, what exactly Adama was thinking every time he looked at his erstwhile president with that quizzical look in his eye.
> 
> I had no problem guessing what he was thinking when he looked at her during their last scene of the season.
> 
> Anyway, I couldn't resist.
> 
> As for spoilers, well, if you haven't finished Season One, you shouldn't be reading this!

She didn’t look guilty.

Didn’t look scared either.

Looking at her, meeting her resolute gaze, he suddenly knew it wasn’t the prospect of being locked away in the Brig which put the pain in her eyes. It wasn’t his coup which haunted their depths.

Had she gotten paler in those few days since he’d seen her last? What _exactly_ was it that she discussed in those never-ending meetings with Cottle?

_Allergies my ass._


	4. Statements from the Accused - Roslin Revisited

Why did he have to look so sad?

She saw it, under the stoicism, even under the barely contained rage. She'd always seen in. She’d always known the mild-mannered Commander was only a façade. She’d sensed he'd have had to have forged his control to control his personality, one she knew was as wild as Starbuck’s. He was good at it, she'd known. Good at controlling the rage.

It was a good thing. Otherwise she’d probably be on the ground by now.

Still. She _still _saw the grief underneath.__

__She bit back the urge to apologize. Did he have to look so broken? Did his eyes have to speak when he wouldn't? She wished she could reach out. Explain._ _

__It wasn’t meant to break us._ _

__It was meant to move us _forward. _____

____It was meant to get you _home. _____ _ _

______She squared her shoulders, knowing it was no use. _You’ll survive this, _she tried to assure him with her eyes. _I’ll be gone soon. You’ll survive. You’ll survive and I won’t be here, as a reminder of the cost. _______ _ _ _ _

__________Accept this gift. Accept it as my apology. Accept your future as my penance, for everything I've done. Everything I've taken from you._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Accept it and move on._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________I’ll be gone soon enough._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
